compensation. P.T.W.

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OLD SONG.


"Syr Tankarde he is as bold a wight
As ever Old England bred;
His armoure it is of the silver bright,
And his coloure is ruby red;
And whene'er on the bully ye calle,
He is readye to give ye a falle;
But if long in the battle with him ye be,
Ye weaker are ye, and the stronger is he,
For Syr Tankarde is victor of alle."

"A barley-corn he mounts for a speare,
His helmet with hops is hung,
He lightes the eye with a laughing leere,
With a carolle he tipps the tongue--
And he marshals a valyant hoste
Of spices and crabbes and toaste;
And the stoutest of yeomen they well can o'erthrow,
When he leads them in beakers and jugs to the foe,--
And Syr Tankarde his prowess may boaste."

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